


toxic sherbet

by BlackSclera



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Bianchi is a mess, and Reborn isn't helping
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-11
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-09-16 03:55:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16946526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackSclera/pseuds/BlackSclera
Summary: In an unexpected turn of events, Bianchi finds herself taking Sawada Tsunayoshi as her apprentice.





	toxic sherbet

*

 

Bianchi takes one look at the infant in front of her and promptly downs her shot.

 

“No,” she says.

 

Reborn, the bastard, takes a slower sip from his own shot glass and ignores her completely. “His name is Tsunayoshi and he is seven-years-old.”

 

“Reborn, what the _fuck_.”

 

“Try not to kill him.” There was an amused lilt to his voice that Bianchi doesn’t understand.

 

“I’m _not_ bringing this kid anywhere with me, do you even understand how much of a risk that is? I’m an assassin, and you’re giving me a _seven-year-old_ child, I can’t believe you-”

 

*

 

Bianchi takes the kid - _Tsunayoshi_ \- home.

 

_Fuck._

 

*

 

They stare at each other.

 

He was rather small for his age, his round cheeks too full and his wide brown eyes bright with childish curiosity and what Bianchi hopes was terror.

 

(There’s a part of her, the keen-eyed, sly-tongued woman who was notoriously known for bringing down men thrice her size, that tells her something is off about him, that he resembles someone that she can’t quite put her finger on.)

 

“You have to eat,” Bianchi says flatly.

 

The kid looks at the plate in front of him then at her, more than a little terrified.

 

Surprisingly, the kid has self-preservation instincts.

 

“I-It’s oka- _ie_ ,” he bit his tongue, winced, then murmured, “I… I’m not hungry.”

 

She hums and props her her cheek on a loosely closed fist, rosette-colored strands cascading like fine silk over her shoulder and half her face.

 

“Do you understand why you’re here, kid?” she asks, partly because she was genuinely curious and partly because she’s trying to look for a reason to send the kid back. Bianchi was an assassin but first and foremost, she was a _sister_. As many as she had killed, for either profit or status, she hasn’t sunk so low that she would purposefully endanger a child with her general emotional incompetence to deal with anything family-related.

 

“Reborn said-”

 

“Did I ask for what Reborn said?”

 

He flinched.

 

Bianchi watches the high rise of his shoulders, the trembling of his lower lip, and the watery gleam in his eyes.

 

 _See?_ This was what she meant.

 

“Are you going to cry?” Dig a metaphorical heel into what was sore and bruised and tender, and watch him break, give him a reason to run.

 

He surprises her when he shuts his eyes and shakes his head resolutely.

 

“You’ll die if you stay with me,” she tells him, all brutal honesty and pretty smiles. “I’m a murderer, kid. Eventually, I’ll end up killing you.”

 

(A violent flinch, she notes. If she didn’t love Reborn as much as she did, she might consider slipping something into his coffee.)

 

He makes an aborted movement with his hand, as if he was about to reach for something on his chest before he drops it and meets her eyes instead.

 

“You won’t kill me,” he replies with startling bluntness and an uncharacteristic lack of hesitation.

 

“Because Reborn said so?”

 

He shakes his head and looks down at his lap. Doesn’t say anything after that, really, so Bianchi just takes his silence for what it was: _I’m staying._

 

Pushing away from her seat, Bianchi gestures vaguely at the staircase. The mansion has enough rooms for the both of them, either way. “Suit yourself.”


End file.
